


Words Etched in the Bark

by Idlewild



Series: With You as My Wingman [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Avocados at Law, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Matt and Foggy at Columbia, Possibly Pre-Slash, Tree Climbing, honestly I think Foggy is in love with Matt in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idlewild/pseuds/Idlewild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>‘Foggy, Foggy, Foggy, this is the best idea you’ve ever had. </em>Ever<em>.’</em><br/><em>‘Thanks, buddy. I try.’</em><br/><em>‘No but seriously. I haven’t climbed a tree since… well. Actually, I think I can count the trees I’ve climbed on one hand and still have fingers left to read with. This is amazing.’</em></p><p>In which Foggy and Matt are walking home, find a tree and climb it to pilfer plums and act all adorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Etched in the Bark

**Author's Note:**

> Another part of my Matt and Foggy at uni series. After the angstiness of the last one, I thought we could all use some epic fluff.

Morningside Park was absolutely lethal for the blind. It was filled with unexpected rocks and winding stairs and steep drops in weird places. It was also a bit lethal for the woefully unfit, Foggy thought ruefully. Matt was safe when Foggy was here with him, but Matt was just about the _least_ unfit person Foggy had ever known. On his own, he would most likely have been bounding up the stairs to campus three at a time, so Foggy was _not_ safe. Not from getting humiliatingly out of breath, anyway – which he already kind of was from their rather brisk walk back from duck-and-turtle-feeding. He kicked a plum out of the way, watching the overripe ball of purple squishiness bouncing off across the lawn, then had a wild idea.

‘Dude, plums!’ He stopped walking, but not so abruptly that Matt might trip over him.

Matt had been lost in thought or autumn air meditation breathing or something for the past half-mile of randomly detour-y paths, and now he cocked his head at Foggy in that adorable way he had. ‘What about them?’

‘Well, they’re delicious, for one. Plus they litter the ground here and guess what that means? Your five o’clock, huge plum tree. What d’you think?’ Foggy was suddenly immensely pep about potentially scaling that tree. He had completely forgotten that he was whining internally about physically strenuous park-related activities not twenty seconds ago, and in all his excitement he had also forgotten, distressingly, that Matt might not be entirely able to climb trees.

Matt’s perplexed face and hesitant tone quickly reminded him of that. ‘Ehm, Foggy? Are you saying you think we should um, climb that tree?’

Foggy flailed internally. He didn’t want to make Matt climb a tree if that wasn’t something he could feasibly do, but he also didn’t want to let on that he thought that maybe Matt couldn’t. Or, for that matter, that he had totally just forgotten – again, some more – that Matt couldn’t friggin’ _see_. He floundered slightly for the second it took these thoughts to zip through his mind, then ploughed on along the path of least resistance, because clearly his mind wasn’t listening to itself, tonight.

‘Well, yeah, what I’m saying is I need sustenance to make it up those dastardly stairs, and we gave all our bread to the birtles – _birds, turtles!_ – and –’

‘That bread was like a week too old, Foggy, that’s why we even gave it to the less discerning animals in the first place…’

‘– and the plums on the ground are all gross, so. Yes. Yes, let’s climb that tree!’

Matt was still looking slightly perplexed, but a smile was slowly seeping onto his face. Once the seeping had done its thing, he was fully grinning at Foggy. ‘That is a _ridiculous_ idea, man,’ he said, but he was clearly as thrilled at the thought as Foggy by now. He turned towards the tree, sniffing the air, then said, more to himself and the tree than to Foggy, really, ‘I haven’t… I haven’t climbed a tree in… oh, screw it.’

And then he was off up the lawn, his cane pinging on moldy fruit as he made his impressively unerring way to the foot of the tree. He tapped it, took one final step, put a hand on the bark. Foggy hurried after him and placed his hand next to Matt’s.

The tree was tall. It hadn’t looked that tall from the path. Suddenly Foggy’s idea seemed a lot more moronic, dangerous and potentially even forbidden by city law than brilliant. Besides, what would people think of two grown-ass guys clambering up this thing? If they even could, that was, because Foggy wasn’t exactly sure. But Matt had already leaned his cane against the trunk and was using both hands to feel for branches.

‘Look, Matt, maybe this is a bad idea…’

‘Why?’

Okay, so Foggy had forgotten how stubborn Matt was. ‘Because it’s a bit weird to be climbing trees in broad daylight,’ although it was in fact evening and already pretty dark, ‘and also dangerous because this tree is _high_ , man!’

‘It was _your_ idea! Anyway, we’ve met, what, three people since we left the pond, so it’s not like the place is swarming with witnesses. There’s a branch here.’

‘Yes there is, and you can barely reach it. I totally can’t.’

‘Oh, come on, Foggy, you’re not that much shorter than me!’ 

This was true. Matt only topped Foggy by about an inch, but his limbs were comparatively much longer. Matt was positively lanky, apart from the fact that he wasn’t, because _fit_. ‘Yeah, okay, I will concede that point, but…’

‘Give me a boost?’ Matt interrupted. He had both hands on the branch now, one on either side, and he had prudently pocketed his glasses. He looked so exuberant and adamant that Foggy couldn’t stop his own initial enthusiasm from flooding back in.

‘Fine. You win. One boost, coming right up. Just, wait, hang on – Matt, _hang on_!’ he repeated, because Matt had grown impatient and was scrambling for footing at hip-level on the trunk. ‘I’m just gonna save your stick here first.’ He folded it, neatly, quickly, adeptly, and stowed it in the vast inside pocket of his jacket. ‘Okay. Pull yourself up and I’ll grab your legs?’

‘M-hm,’ Matt agreed, readjusting his hands and heaving himself at least a foot off the ground. Foggy bent down to take hold of his shins, just below the knees, getting a shoe print on his shoulder as he helped Matt up. Before they knew it, Matt was sitting on the branch, one leg on either side, back to the trunk. 

‘Your turn, buddy!’ he said gleefully.

So Foggy stood on tiptoe to grip the branch and Matt lay forward to grab his elbows. Foggy’s feet scrabbled at the bark like Matt’s just had and his arms informed him that he was way too heavy for this. He ignored them stoically, lifting himself enough to tip the top of his chest over the branch. Matt grabbed his belt, yanked, and with one more lunge, Foggy was sitting next to him. They grinned at each other.

‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Matt practically chirped. He was still holding one of Foggy’s hands, his other around the branch between them.

Foggy reached out to steady himself on the next branch over. ‘Actually, yeah, it kinda was. But hey, we made it! So… you wanna keep going?’

Matt snorted in a way that somehow conveyed how much he obviously wasn’t going to stop _now_ , then burst out giggling with his head thrown back against the trunk. ‘Yes! Oh wow, this is insane. Yeah, let’s do this. But you’re gonna have to walk me through it.’

‘With pleasure. Go first?’

‘I think… you’d better go first. Scout the way.’

So Foggy let go of Matt’s hand, reached for another branch and stood up carefully. The branch they were on wobbled precariously, but this was actually a remarkably climbing-friendly tree once you got the first seven feet off the ground. He stepped on one branch, grabbed another, stood on a third, and could already reach the juicy spheres from there. He sat down side-saddle on a branch by his hip.

‘Okay, your turn. There’s a branch by your right shoulder.’

The tree swayed slightly when Matt stood up and turned around to loop an arm around the trunk. He felt around for another handhold.

‘Left hand up a bit… left a bit. Great, now step on that branch you grabbed before. Okay, now right foot, there’s one just by your knee. Here, gimme your hand.’ Matt reached his hand right up into Foggy’s. ‘Teamwork! Now, left foot up. Out a bit. Hip level. Aaand up! Awesome. You can sit down there.’ Matt did. He was about a foot higher up, at an angle on the other side of the stem, his ankles wagging just beside Foggy’s right knee. ‘All right! Go us!’

Matt was grinning ear-to-ear. The orange light of the sunset found the perfect gap between the houses above them to turn both the tree’s bark and Matt’s hair a golden shade of auburn, and he held his hand down in a fist. Foggy bumped it with his own. He felt as though the light was shining straight into his chest, filling it with a soft brilliant glow. Unable to contain it, he let it bubble up his throat in a giddy, elongated chuckle. Matt laughed with him. 

The sun hid and the light faded from Matt’s hair, but the glow inside Foggy remained. He leaned slightly forward to thump his shoulder against Matt’s knee.

‘So, here we are! Kingdom of plums!’ Foggy plucked one off and handed it to Matt. ‘Check for wormholes before consumption,’ he instructed as he picked one for himself.

Matt ran his fingers over the skin of the fruit, then took a bite and rolled his eyes euphorically. ‘Foggy, Foggy, Foggy, this is the best idea you’ve ever had. _Ever_.’

‘Thanks, buddy. I try.’

‘No but seriously. I haven’t climbed a tree since… well. Actually, I think I can count the trees I’ve climbed on one hand and still have fingers left to read with. This is amazing.’ He shoved the rest of the plum in his mouth, spit the stone out gracefully, then added, ‘Thank you.’

Foggy reached up and patted his knee. ‘De rien. As tree-climbing partners go, you rock.’

‘You too.’ Foggy pfffft’ed at that. ‘Really, you do.’

They sat up there, contentedly munching and chatting amiably as the sun went down and the lampposts took over. Eventually they fell silent. Matt had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply through his nose, and Foggy studied him unashamedly in the yellowish light. It was funny how he always felt less awkward looking at him when Matt’s eyes were closed, since that made no difference in any logical way.

‘Hey Matty?’ Matt hummed. ‘You and me, yeah? Maverick and Goose.’

‘Maverick and Goose,’ Matt echoed, smiling, eyes still shut.

‘We’ll rewrite the ending. No one dies. Copilots forever!’

Matt hummed again. That was when Foggy got his second brilliant but silly idea of the evening. He took out his keys, picked the pointiest one out of his meagre selection and started carving letters in the smooth red bark.

‘What are you doing?’ Matt wondered. His eyes were open now and he was leaning forward intently.

‘Just perpetuating the moment for posterity…’

Matt snorted. ‘Dude, you always talk like a tautology example. And are you seriously writing our names on the tree?’

‘Nah. Just our initials. Here, feel that.’ He guided Matt’s fingers onto the jagged letters. M+F.

Matt grinned, shaking his head in mock exasperation. Then he said, ‘Give me those keys.’ Foggy obeyed without a second thought, and Matt scooted out and forwards a bit on his branch to better reach the writing. The fingertips of his left hand skimmed over it, then settled just below the M. He jammed the tip of the key into the bark, twisting it minutely to make a dot. Then another. And another. His eyes were focused hard on a point of nothing a foot or so to the right of the tree and his fingers were feeling carefully for the placements. He was writing Braille. Painstakingly, meticulously, oh-so-neatly. When he was done, he palmed the keys to run his right-hand fingers over the inverted dots. He smiled softly.

‘What does it say?’ Matt just handed the keys back. ‘Matty, what does it say?’

But Matt had already scooted back against the trunk. He put one foot up on the branch and, smiling, closed his eyes again.

‘Matt! Hey! That's just not okay, dude. What does it _say_?’ Matt simply grinned wider, little teasing bursts of air huffing out of his nose. ‘Ugh! You are _insufferable_! Some copilot. I _will_ find out, you know.’

‘M-hm,’ Matt hummed. Foggy hauled his phone out and took a photo of their collaboration. Then he grabbed another plum.

A while later, Foggy’s butt was starting to feel like part of the tree, and not in a good way. He mentioned this to Matt, breaking him out of his semi-meditation for the third time that evening, and he agreed that this had stopped being comfortable rather long ago. So Foggy guided Matt down again, which was a bit trickier than up because of the lacking light, and watched him dangle from the lowest branch before dropping skilfully to the ground. He made a disgusted sound as a plum popped under his sole. Foggy followed him down, tried to imitate his dangle-and-drop, failed quite miserably, and nearly fell on his derrière before Matt caught him and stood him upright.

‘Dude, how did you do that‽’

‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m a ninja!’ Matt assumed a martial-artsy stance, arms crossed in front of himself. Foggy laughed and jabbed him in the shoulder.

‘Whatevs, Matty. And I’m a ballerina.’

Matt literally stuck his tongue out at him before sliding his glasses back on and holding out a hand. Foggy handed over the cane. Matt unfolded it in one fluid motion and tucked his left hand around Foggy’s right elbow.

‘Think you have the energy to dance up those stairs now, Odette?’

‘Oh, I’m the white swan? I thought we agreed on the no death thing up there.’

‘We’ll rewrite that story too.’

‘Sure. Stairs.’

They trudged up the steps in tandem, still prattling on inanely, and emerged only a few blocks from their dorm. Foggy was out of breath, sure, but more from joking about ballet and opera than from the actual climb. 

Once they had gone to bed, Foggy opened the picture on his phone, staring at the little dots. He _would_ figure them out. Tomorrow.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Matt was sitting at his desk reading two books at once when Foggy came bursting triumphantly through the door the following afternoon.

‘Forever!’ he yawped.

‘That’s great, man,’ Matt said without turning.

Foggy skipped over to him and shoved a sheet of paper under his hands. One word was typed on it, seven cells, right in the middle of the page. Matt’s insides lit up with affection. ‘How even…?’

‘Google, my friend! Also, I may have bribed a library clerk with a mocha so she’d let me use their Braille printer.’ Foggy’s heart was basically doing the jive in his chest, he was that pleased with himself.

Matt ran his fingers over the word again, then fumbled across Foggy’s half of the desk for a pencil. He laid the paper on the lid of his laptop, felt for the right spot and did his utmost to write the letters legibly, in a nine-year-old’s careful print, above the dots. M+F.

He rose, fist held out. Foggy bumped it, then grabbed his hand to draw him into a hug. Their hearts beat against each other and a radiant warmth spread through Matt’s chest as he wrapped his arms tightly around his friend.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I've been to the park in this story, actually. (In the winter. I've only ever been to New York in the winter.) And I have no idea if there are fruit trees or if the sunset light can reach you down there. Let's just say yes, okay? Yes.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Watch this spot for more parts. <3


End file.
